


Lucifer Sam, Siam cat

by Bumocusal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Baby Sam Winchester, Because the Impala is a cat, Castiel and Cats, Cat, Cat Impala, Cats, Dean - Freeform, Dean and Cats, Dean is a Sweetheart, Don't Judge Me, Drinking to Cope, Growing Up, How Do I Tag, I can't think of anything else, Imagine cat impala is cool, Impala is actual cat, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kid Dean Winchester, M/M, POV Impala, POV Outsider, Pre-Series, Sassy, Season/Series 01, Weirdness, Why Did I Write This?, get over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumocusal/pseuds/Bumocusal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Dean bonded with a Cat instead of a car.</p><p>  <i>Or, John never got the beloved Impala and instead bought a kitten named Baby.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucifer Sam, Siam cat

**Author's Note:**

> When I'm supposed to be working on the Time Travel fic but end up with this cluster fuck. Sorry about this. 
> 
> Also, this was meant to only be about 1000 words max. It ended up larger and much worse. 5000+ is kinda cuckoo-for-cocoa-puffs for a cat POV, huh? This is unbeta'd, btw. So comment if I fucked up any grammar or spelling. Or just comment something random. Like, "Chicken butt." That would certainly be confusing for people who skipped the notes.
> 
> It's actually a Wednesday night and I just got home from the hospital (My Dad is having serious heart problems and other medical issues), so this is just a quick one-shot to hold over my creative outpour because I'm basically editing my other stories and can't go to sleep. I was literally tired all day, barely keeping my eyes open, then I get home and crawl into bed and- BOOM! Suddenly I'm hyper like crazy. 
> 
> Writing this helped kerb the excessive energy, but I'm still wide awake so I'll probably work on the Time travel Au next if anybody's wondering why that hasn't been updated in like a week. I'm sorry about that, just got back in school and it's taking up most of my time. College sucks ass. Sorry for the rant. Because this is literally 200+ words, I'm going to cut it before I ramble on even more.
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting. It means the world to me, honestly. 
> 
> Love you all, 
> 
> Abby.

It was Saturday, the US president was Ronald Reagan, and Billie Jean by Michael Jackson trumpeted out of every radio. Baby was a day old, she was given to her first owner as an anniversary gift, a wonderful human named Mary Winchester.

She spent the first year of her life being the happiest cat in the universe.

Mary fed her tuna and milk and rubbed _this spot_ between her eyes. John would let her sleep on the bed, after some persuasion from Mary, every night. And their tiny person Dean would cuddle her like nobody’s business.

Then Sam was brought into their house one day-- he smelt like Mary and John, so Baby had assumed it meant the miniature human was harmless-- and things got not-happy. This Sam stole all Baby and Dean’s _John-and-Mary-Attention._

It was like, the curtain lifted in their relationship, suddenly Dean wasn’t just this weird blobby thing that petted her too hard sometimes.

Dean was special and her best friend. They understood each other.

When Mary, who mostly hung out in the nursery now, forgot to give her milk with the tuna, Dean would pour his glass into her pan. When Dean wanted some cuddles from his clearly exhausted parents, Baby would slink into his lap… reluctantly.

Over the six months they had united together against the screaming enemy that regularly pooped his pants, Dean had learned to become gentle with his hugs and pet her in _the spot._ The spot that Mary had apparently forgotten about.

Maybe she was committing an act of treason and petting the miniature human there instead. It wouldn’t surprise her.

And instead of hesitantly crawling up to an upset Dean, she would practically jump at him anytime he entered a room. She even began sleeping at the foot of his bed. Beds were totally more comfortable without John’s tossing and turning.

 

Baby smelt the smoke and immediately woke up Dean. She screeched in his ear until he stirred and went to check out the fire. It was in the nursery. Before she could process what was going on, Sam was being shoved into Dean’s arms, then he was told to run.

John ran back into the room, where Baby could smell burning flesh.

Like natural instinct, Baby guided Dean out of the house. She internally cheered when John picked the human’s up and booked it. Even if he did leave her behind. She ran fast and caught up anyway.

After that, everything changed.

Baby’s sure that John can’t stand the sight of her. Every time she curls around Dean’s stumpy legs, he shoots glares her way. Grumbles about how he should have left her back in Lawrence. Her presence reminds him of Mary too much.

John packed them into that crappy station waggon he’d traded in the VW van for and leaves the house in the dust. He starts talking about monsters and how they’re real.

Training Dean how to shoot guns and use knives. Baby hates the sound of guns.

He even starts going places and hunting things. After a hunt goes bad, John starts leaving them in hotels instead of bringing them. Dean, being five-years-old, doesn’t have any babysitting skills. He literally sits in a corner and licks the wall.

Baby sits in front of Sam's crib and guards.

Sam isn’t the enemy anymore. He’s this precious present that Baby and Dean start to secretly love. She can tell that Dean doesn’t care whether he likes Sam or not, but Baby has a ten-minute crisis of ethics.

They hated the kid for over ten months, it’s fallacious to switch sides just because they feel responsible for him.

But like most things, Baby decides that Dean’s opinion is the correct one. She actually begins to care for Sam and thinks of him in a motherly way. She would become the missing figure in his life. Try to take care of him.

But even if Sam was rapidly worming his way into her heart, Dean was her new true owner. He was like this light in the dark. She loved him the most and she was sure he felt the same about her. Even as the years go on.

Dean starts to get a handle on taking care of Sam.

The kid turns two before they realise it. Dean, six, tries his hardest to get a birthday present. Baby brings a dead rat as an offering. Although Dean scolds her for it, so maybe humans don’t appreciate rats.

Sam starts to babble and from sorta-words, but Baby can’t make fun of his messy slurred attempts because she can’t form words at all. This child is already more advanced than her. _Dammit_.

Her relationship with Dean changes again when he’s eight. He begins carrying her everywhere, bathroom excluded for some reason she hasn’t figured out yet. Threatens anyone who touches her or mistreats her.

Whisper’s how much he loves her and depends on her into her silky black coat.

It makes her purr in delight.

At nine years old, Dean treats Baby like a prized possession and it feels like a victory that she didn’t know she wanted. It’s like this relationship she has with Dean is developing past best friend territory and into mega-best-friends. Or something.

She’s still stumped on what’s the next step after best friend.

Then he turns ten. John has apparently decided that ten is the perfect age to begin taking him on these monster hunts. Sam’s only six, practically a baby still, and is expected to stay at home by himself. The kid doesn’t even know about monsters, yet.

For some reason, Dean seems thrilled by the news, spends half an hour telling her how much he wanted to accompany his Dad. Spills secrets he only trusts her with; how he wants to prove himself to John and follow in his footsteps.

Baby pretends to be uninterested, bathing herself with her tongue to show him how ridiculous he’s being. Dean is perfect the way he is. She doesn’t even want to imagine the human becoming John’s shadow. She can only handle one of them.

And maybe she’s jealous.

Dean gets to leave the crappy motel rooms they squat in, while she’s confined to the small space and has to watch Sam be a six-year-old dummy. It’s not even an interesting age to watch. Dean had been that age _years ago_.

Sam is a cutie, though. Shorter than Dean by at least two feet (not that she understands human measurements) and has the shaggiest hair she’s ever seen a human male have. It looks like a mop on his head.

He’s sharp as a whip, already bypassing Dean in academics.

Not that Dean isn’t a genius. He’s a different type of smart, street smart. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, straight moral compass.

Sam’s good, too. But Dean’s _perrrrr_ -fect.

She’s going to go drown herself in the toilet bowl.

* * *

It was Friday, the US president was Bill Clinton, and to Dean’s utter loathing Celine Dion was at the top of the charts. It was kind of funny watching him make a disgusted face and switch the channel every ten or so minutes.

He dropped out of high school last month to become a full-time hunter, mostly because of John’s pressuring. She hid under the bed for a solid twenty minutes, fighting the urge to scratch out the old man's eyeballs.

Dean needed to get a diploma, that much was a given. How was he ever going to get a real job once all this revenge talk was over? Monsters or not, her best friend deserved the premium life for all the crap he’s expected to do.

Treated like an adult since the age of four.

She silently watched him obey John’s constant bark of orders, acting like a soldier. Shifting her gaze to a clearly frustrated Sam, who was at the ripe age of thirteen and disobeying. If she couldn’t get Dean out of this cesspit of a life, maybe baby Sammy could escape.

John still glared at her like she personally hung Mary on the ceiling and roasted her.

_Fuck the old kook._

Ever since Dean turned into a teenager, currently seventeen, he’d stopped hanging out recreationally with her. The only times he _really_ pets her and loves her is when he’s using her to pick up girls.

Baby is apparently a chick magnet.

They’re in this part of their relationship called; _Stage wing-woman._

It’s a digression from mega-best-friends, but Sam assures her that Dean ignoring her for girls he met less than five minutes ago, is just a phase. She actually caught him sniffing a pair of lacy underwear the other night.

He at least had the decency to look mortified.

Hid his stupid red face for a whole thirty seconds before scoffing, “Why the hell am I acting so embarrassed for? You’re just a cat.”

Yes, she was a cat, but he didn’t have to pronounce it like an insult. Nevertheless, because he’s Dean, she strides forward and intertwines between his legs. Sniffing and nuzzling her face into his toned calves. For some reason, it comforts him enough to tell her the reason he had the panties.

They’re his. _Huh_.

She notices that Dean begins to confide in her more, again. Probably using her inability to judge him with human words as an excuse to open the floodgates with his problems. Thankfully, he pets her when he raves.

It builds their relationship.

 _Stage wing-woman_ is still a go, but mega-best-friends start to become closer to their reattaching bond.

Baby knows she’s not like normal cats.  
  
Normal stereotypical cats are lazy, sassy, mean, don’t understand human languages, and apparently eat their dead owners. (Sam had told that to Dean last week. He stopped petting her for two hours. Sam’s officially dead to her.)  
  
And she’s the only cat Dean isn’t allergic to. It’s kind of weird how coincidentally specific that turned out to be.

Sam walks up to her with wonder etched onto his face, just getting home from school, “Hey, Baby? Did you know that you're sixty-nine human years old? Cat years are different than human years. You’re older than Dad is. Isn’t that neat?”

Not really. She didn’t feel like she was on her seventies doorstep. What kind of stupid human made up that rule anyway? Human years being different than cat years. Sounded preposterous to her.

Dean finds it hilarious, “Sixty-nine? Ha!”

She swishes her tail and walks away.

The sound of Dean’s voice trails after her, “I’ve been telling all my dirty secrets to a grandma!”

If rolling her eyes was physically possible, they'd probably have fallen out of her head by now. She flicks her head in what could be interpreted as a roll, to make up for it. Baby _was not_ a grandma. Stupid teenagers. She was, no doubt the hippest cat they knew.

She only pooped in her litter box which was totally environmentally conscious of her. She wore the hippest fashion trends, collar studded like everything else in the 90’s. _She couldn’t be a grandma or old or anything of the sort._

Before she can bolt into the motel’s bathroom, to crash in the chic and uber hip bathtub, Dean snatches her up. She cringes as his fingers dig a little deep into her stomach, but soothes as he places her in his lap.

They’re lounging on the queen sized bed, the motel room has two. One for Dean and one for Sammy. John booked a separate room so he could sneak in from late night hunts (A.K.A. bar hopping) without waking the boys.

Dean pets _her spot_ , and the illustrious purring starts up like a Mack-truck. Kneading on Dean’s lap, Baby sends Dean a slow “eye blink”. She can’t pucker her lips for an air-kiss, so they have to, unfortunately, make do with the lash fluttering.

Wait, does she even have eyelashes?

* * *

Dean sneaks out to a party that night.

He whispers for her to cover for him. _Yeah right._

For one, she is already on John’s kill list. No need to accumulate more reasons to move her higher up or finally off her. So, if John asks -- which he might because who knows with that man-- she’s going to calmly gesture towards the door.

Two, Dean’s wellbeing is always her number one priority. The maternal instincts she picked up over the years make it impossible to condone an underage boy to go out and get drunk. She knows that’s what he’s planning on doing, being in the big Apple and all.

Even though Dean never had a normal childhood, always being labelled the responsible one, it doesn’t give him a free pass to mess up his untarnished reputation.

The only other time John’s really gotten mad at him was when he snuck out to go play arcade games instead of protecting Sammy. That was years ago, though. And nothing bad happened then because Baby sat on the foot of his bed and watched the little guy like a hawk.

But maybe in another universe, something bad did happen. She can’t even imagine what John would have done to Dean. Beaten him until he was black and blue, probably.

When John stalked out the door, a determined frown on his face and key’s in his hands, Baby knew. She almost shuddered because the punishment could vary depending on how drunk John was. He could have a normal conversation or pass into the child abuse territory.

Baby tries to follow him, but he kicks her _hard_ with the steel toe of his boot, “Get back cat.”

 _Fuck you, asshole,_ She thinks, panting.

* * *

Lisa was a yoga instructor.

Dean and Baby were alone while Sam and John hunted a Banshee. He pulls them into a seedy little town in Michigan and goes on about needing a break from hunting. Baby couldn't agree more. He meets her on accident. Bumping into her inside a sub shop with mayonnaise dripping onto his shirt. Baby licks at the discarded condiment as Dean stutters out an awkward hello.

Lisa and her sister are apparently eating here, too. They invite Dean to sit with them and he eagerly excepts.

The two hook up and spent a week together. Baby spending most of that time with Lisa's sister, who was a little disappointed when Dean liked her younger sibling better than her.

He tells Baby it as the bendiest week of his life.

* * *

Dean’s obsessed with this television program.

It was Thursday, the US president was George W. Bush, and it’s Dean’s twenty-third birthday. Sam left them last year for college and John barely hangs around anymore. He calls less and less frequently. It’s like Sam’s absence made him even more distant.

The show Dean’s freaking consumed with is called Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Baby doesn’t know why he likes it so much, killing vampires is nothing like the bull-crap this show is preaching. You behead them and use a lot less wooden stakes.

All his free time is used up watching the T.V. or listening to music. And then John texts him coordinates and he’s packing her up in _this weird car_ and they’re driving to a hunt. Sometimes she helps, sniffing for hex bags or sulphur.

All magic has got this tangy smell, like electricity and lemon.

When they hunt witches, so far they’ve only caught two, she feels this unexplainable pull. Shaking it off, Baby resumes her post and tries to help Dean the best she can. But the more years that go by, the less she feels like moving around.

She’s only nineteen, so the aches and pains in her joints shouldn’t be this gruesome.

Maybe Sammy’s twelve-year-old predictions are true and she’s actually ninety-three human years old. Still sounds bogus, though.

The car Dean bought is huge. He worked construction jobs for a while, mowed lawns, and did anything that didn’t require a high school degree. Also, since he inherited the family station waggon, he sold it for a pretty decent price.

He saved up just enough to buy him this rusted up heap of junk in Bobby Singer’s salvage yard. A 1970’s Pontiac GTO. He boasted about it for a solid week, telling her about all these cool restorations he could give the car. Baby paid attention for approximately thirty seconds before zoning out.

Even if she deemed everything Dean said extremely interesting, her vapid attention was no match for automobile talk. She honestly didn’t care that his car had “360 hp” or “a four-speed manual transmission.” It was all gibberish to her.

And she had a stinking suspicion that Dean had no clue what he was talking about either. His sudden interests of muscle cars were definitely left field, at least he had a hobby besides frying his brain on the boob tube all day.

 

When Dean got his G.E.D. it was a prideful experience for Baby.

Sam was off at Stanford becoming a big-shot lawyer, while Dean was left in the dust. Ever since the kid found out about Monsters, he'd been itching to leave. It was like suddenly, Dean and Baby weren't enough to keep him around.

He kept running away, Dean always got blamed and beaten for it.

It was a vicious cycle that they broke.

So Dean getting a better education _fucking_ got her hopes up. Maybe this meant he was done being John's errant boy. Of course, it didn't change shit except that he could work better-paying jobs on the side. Didn't have to use credit card scams as much. But at least he hadn't given up on the apple-pie dream she'd always wanted for him.

While Dean was doing a job in Athens, Ohio. He met this firecracker named Cassidy.

They were constantly camping out near her college campus. Baby gets sneaked into this poor girls dorm more often than not. And while every girl Dean sleeps around with usually annoys Baby, she likes Cassie. They seem like they're in a healthy relationship. Plus, Cassie buys her the expensive cat food. Even on a college student's paycheck.

After three weeks, Dean looks at Baby and beams, "I love her."

Baby purrs, because she will treasure anyone Dean loves.

"I've decided that secrets aren't good for this thing with Cassie," Dean says and Baby wholeheartedly agrees. "I'm telling her the truth."

Cassie breaks up with Dean after he tells her about hunting.

So much for apple-pie.

* * *

It was Tuesday, the US president was still George W. Bush, and some rapper named Kayne West was chanting this infectious tune from the room's radio, making her ears twitch. Dean too distracted to change the station, even as the man starting warbling about _Golddiggers_.

John hadn't called in over twenty days. Not even a simple text.

He was checking out this road just outside of Jericho, California. It had an odd amount of missing persons attached to it, all male abductees. Their cars left abandoned, while the driver vanished. The guilt of not accompanying John was clear in Dean's eyes. He thought that whatever was kidnapping these guys, might have gotten his Dad.

Dean was going crazy, pacing the motel room's floors and muttering curses underneath his breath. All she wanted was for him to sit down so she could crawl into his lap and console him. He finally stops, turns towards Baby, and says, "I'm going to go get Sammy."

She wanted to shake her head, yell at him, try to reason that this wasn't a good idea. Dragging Sam back into the life of a hunter was not right- _Fuck, why was this so messed up?_ Why couldn't John just answer his freaking cell phone? The thought of him reading every scrambled text and frantic voice mail Dean left him, then not even caring enough to respond.

Baby saw red.

She meows, pitifully. Dean just nods, not understanding her clearly disappointed tone. "Maybe I should call ahead."

Turning towards the motel's bed, Baby jumps onto it. She knew Dean was going to have to clean up all her shedding hair later, considering this specific motel had a very strict no pets policy, but she didn't care. Their credit-card was almost maxed, any additional fees would absolutely stink, but he deserves it.

She tucks into the pillows, he's going to start ranting again.

"Naw, he never answers any of my calls anyway-"

She sighs.

 _"_ -Stupid kid. Never listening to anything we say. Well, he'll learn-"

Baby braces herself for a two or three-hour tirade, realising that they are inevitability going to the _fucking_ Bay Area. Where Sam has his own life. A life that doesn't include them. Her heart aches for Dean, who was practically abandoned. Still, Sam got out. It's a feat they should be respecting.

 

Sam's dorm is bigger than she expected. Scholarships be damned.

For some reason, they wait until it's pitch back out to go "surprise" Sam. Dean sneaks in like a burglar, has her tucked under his left arm. As soon as they enter, Baby jumps to the cool hardwood floor and watches Dean get tackled by a towering blurry figure. She quickly realises it's Sam, puts away her claws and watches with fond amusement. The sentimentality builds and catches a lump in her throat.

They wrestle for a few seconds, Dean winning.

"Dean?"

 _No shit_ , she thinks.

"You scared the fuck out of me!"

"That's cause you're outta practice," Dean smirks.

"What in the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, I was looking for a beer. How convenient that the dorm I broke into was yours."

"I repeat, why are you here?"

"We gotta talk."

 _No shit_ , she thinks, again.

Apparently, the ruckus woke up Sam's girlfriend, who stands in the doorway, hand on the light switch. Her blond hair falls down her back like tumbleweeds. The slight resemblance to Mary was the biggest shock. But the way she curls into herself when Dean shamelessly checks her out blows the comparisons out of the park.

"This is Dean. And this is my girlfriend Jessica."

Dean winks at Jess.

Sam sees her lurking around the dorm, "And you brought the damn cat? How hasn't _it_ kicked the bucket yet?"

Baby hisses, looking right into his eyes. She was a big reason he grew up the way he did, wanting more in life, the kid should show her some respect. Dean frowns for her, "Hey! Don't talk about Baby that way. We grew up with her. She's the last thing we have of..."

Okay, she knew that Dean really liked her for more than her bond with Mary, but it did hurt when he laid it out like that. Sam glances towards Jessica, "Why are you here, Dean?"

"Private conversation," Dean says, glancing at Jessica.

Sam frowns, "Anything you have to say, you can say it in front of her."

Baby shakes her head. Sam had to be smart enough to realise that private essentially meant _monster talk._

"Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days," Dean replies, mysterious and vague.

Sam breathes out, "Jess, honey, Dean and I need to talk alone."

Baby genuinely felt bad for the girl, she was about to get separated from her boyfriend for a self-righteous rescue mission that wasn't even necessary. So, when Jessica sent Sam a perplexed look but ultimately walked out, Baby trailed after her. Grazing against her legs and inhaling the new scent.

It was the aroma of chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven.

Maybe if chocolate wasn't totally poisonous and lethal to her, she'd search for the baked treats.

Jessica walked into what Baby assumed was the bedroom, elegantly sitting on the bed. Not knowing what her policy on cats was, Baby sat patiently at her feet. It didn't take long for Jessica to scoop Baby into her arms, and place her heavy body on her lap. The petting was sloppy, but she could look over the mediocre cuddling for Sam.

And Jessica started talking, "Wonder what all that was about, chick?"

Baby meowed, wishing she could speak English. Tell her about the family she was going to eventually marry into; _Hunters_. Monsters always right behind them. If John was actually missing, then Jessica was going to be without Sam for a while. Dean just guiding him right back into this shit.

"Sam never mentioned a brother before," Jessica continues, "And his Dad's missing? Kind of random."

She wanted to wail and scratch, warn Jessica. But she was just a cat. An old fat cat. An old fat and probably-close-to-death Cat. Twenty-two years old and almost in her grave.

"His interview is coming up. It's for a full ride here. He's studying law, and I know he's nervous about it. Hopefully, this won't distract him. Sam's whole future rides on this," She sighs, empathy laced in her words.

Baby closes her saffron yellow eyes, nestling closer into Jessica's stomach.

"You're such a beautiful kitty," Jessica states, "Solid black is customarily bad luck, but you seem exceptional. You are an exception, _right_ , chick?"

 _I wish_ , Baby thinks, _anything but bad luck would be nice. For Dean's sake._

Jessica lays down, hair fanned across the mattress, Baby squirms up to her ribs. "I know he's going to go look for his Dad. That's just the kind of person Sam is. Always looking out for everybody but himself. Be my good luck charm and keep him safe, okay? I'm trusting you, Chick."

She hears Dean's heavy boots against the floor, watching Jessica jump at his abrupt voice cutting through the tender atmosphere like ice. Jessica roughly stands up, almost knocking Baby to the floor, she scurries to Dean's feet ready to be picked up. He plucks her up, cradling her like a human infant, "Actually, her name is Baby."

"Sorr-Uh. I was just, um, Y'know? Talking to her?"

Dean's lip twitches into a scanty smirk, "Yeah. I noticed."

Baby meows at Dean, attempting to assure him that this girl was unmistakably perfect for their little Sammy. Dean must follow because he doesn't make fun of her talking to a cat like a person, knowing that Baby can't answer. Dean does it himself sometimes, but solely Baby knows.

"So," Jessica says, awkwardly, "Any embarrassing childhood stories you'd like to share?"

"We didn't have normal childhoods," Dean replies shortly.

She shrugs, "Abnormal embarrassing childhood stories?"

"Unlike most," Dean begins, "We didn't grow up in the country club. So, all those mortifying accounts about ordering the wrong type of caviar didn't happen with us."

"Didn't happen with me either, Dean," Jessica answers, voice thick, "My daddy didn't snap his fingers and suddenly I was excepted. I'm here on multiple scholarships. Barely even went to college because of my abusive foster parents. Now, are you going to tell me any embarrassing stories, or keep assuming things?"

Baby attempted to grin at the blush creeping up Deans cheeks.

"Okay, then. Sam had this imaginary friend when he was little named Sully. Mork from Ork looking guy with-"

* * *

Sam approaches Deans car with an eager look in his eye. Baby, curled in the passenger seat, watches him run his hand over the hood, praisingly. "Holy shit, Dean. Where'd you get this car?"

Dean smiles smugly, "Bobby Singer. Sold the old family car and worked nonstop, but finally gained enough money that it wouldn't feel like stealing from the old man. "

"What about those credit-card scams you and Dad run? Didn't that help?"

"Nah," Dean looks at the car adoringly, "It felt wrong buying him without paying hard earned cash."

Sam's eyebrows shoot up, "Did you just call your car him?"

"Yeah. Boats and ships are usually female, so I figured my car should be male. Going against the grain."

"More like going against normal. It's creepy," Sam laughs.

Sam looks into the passenger seat, sees Baby and groans, "Why are you still hauling that old cat around? And why is she up front? I called shotgun."

Baby grunts, sending her best glare at Sam's head.

"Stop whining. Baby's up front because she gets car sick. Can't handle the back seat without vomiting. And I take her everywhere with me because I want to."

Sliding into the back, Sam huffs, "How is she still alive anyway?"

 _What's that supposed to mean?_ She thinks towards Sam.

Turning the engine, Dean glares back at him through the rearview mirror, "What?"

 _Thank you,_ She mentally cheers, _he finally gets my silence._

"Cats don't live past twenty. Normal cats anyway. She's like, over one hundred and five if we convert cat years to human years."

"Baby isn't normal. She's unique. And according to your girlfriend, our good luck charm. So, shut up and listen to the music, bitch."

Back in Black fills the cars speakers.

"Jerk."

 

Driving down the highway, Baby startles out of her nap as Dean's phone rings. It immediately cuts off and signals a new voicemail. Sam grabs the cell from the console and dial's, places it up to his ear and listens.

"Who was calling, Sam?"

"It's Dad," Sam replies, shakily.

Dean pulls off the road, turning around and opening his palm, "Hand it over."

"It's just a bunch of bullshit," Sam informs, placing the phone in Dean's hand, "Get rid of all this static and I think we'll pick up something. EVP maybe? "

Baby listens as Dean replays the message, _"Dean, something big is starting to happen. I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may..._ "

The audio skips. Then, " _Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger_."

Sam slows the message down, runs it through a gold wave and takes out the hiss. Baby watches in fascination because, holy shit, that boy has computer skills. He pulls out a clunky black laptop and gets to work. Eventually, Dean pulled back onto the road and began driving again.

" _I can never go home_ ," A voice crackles from the laptop, soft and female.

"What the fuck?" Dean asks, face full of anger. "I can never go home? We need to find Dad quick."

Baby shifted in her seat, blame building inside her paunch Maybe John really was in danger.

* * *

 

Dean glances over at Sam, then back to the road as they drive past the Jericho sign. At a bridge ahead of them, there are two police cars and several officers. Baby breathed in the frigid air and wished the heater was on.

"Check it out," Dean says.

Sam bends forward for a better look while Dean pulls up and parks. They both take a prolonged look before Dean turns off the engine. He cracks open the glove compartment and pulls out a carton stuffed with ID cards with his and John's faces including FBI and DEA. 

He picks one out and grins at Sam, who stares, "Are those what I think they are?"

"Let's go," Dean smirks, ignoring the question, and gets out of the car.

Baby rubbed weakly at her eyes, which were nearly crusted shut. She blinked about a dozen times before focusing. Naturally, Dean left her in the car because it was too suspicious to bring a cat while impersonating a federal employ. 

Everything was so quiet. She could hear her heartbeat thumping quickly against her ribcage. It was totally silent. Baby slinked up to the window and watch the boys walk up to the police officers like they belonged. If she weren't a cat, she would totally annihilate this human fed B.S. 

 

When they climb back into the Pontiac, Sam groans, "Can't believe we did that. Let's get out of here before they realize were not Marshals. "

Baby snorts. If Sammy only knew the kind of shit they get away with. Dean voices that and pets her head like he knew she was thinking the same thing.

"But why do you have to talk to the police like that?" 

"Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves," Dean revs up the Pontiac and peels out of the parking lot.

 

The motel door whirls open. 

Sam hides the picks with pride etched on his face and stands up. Dean playing lookout nearly trips when Sam reaches out of the room to seize his shoulder and yank him inside. 

They look around—every surface has papers clasped to it: maps, newspaper clippings, pictures, notes. There are volumes on the desk and assorted trash on the floor and bed, containing something with a hazardous-materials logo.

"Whoa," Sam whispers.

Dean turns on a light by the bed and picks up a half-eaten hamburger sitting there. He sniffs it and recoils, it was definitely old, "I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least."

Babby jumps onto the bed, taking an exploratory bite of the food. Not that bad, actually. Tastes relatively like all human food, smokey and charred like meat and smooth from the cheese. She swishes her tail and eats more. Only gagging when a clump of mayonnaise sticks on the roof of her mouth and clogs her throat. Dean looks up at the ceiling in exasperation, picking the burger back up and tossing it into the closest garbage can.

Sam steps over a line of salt on the floor and fingers the condiment before looking up, "Salt, Shiva's eye, fairy powder? He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in."

Dean dips his head, reaching down to pick her up, Baby instantly started to purr in affection from the surprising attention. She was always happy anytime Dean touched her, to be honest. It felt like tingles on her skin whenever he touched her. His nails scratching behind her ear and down the scruff of her neck.

Heaven on earth, fairly.

"Look's like Dad had it all figured out," Sam's voice breaks through her meditation, "Woman in White, apparently. The legend says she haunts because of the unfinished business with her cheating husband. She murders her children and commits suicide. Let's see, this woman in white jumped off the same bridge from the accident as we were coming into town. Coincidence? Her name was Constance Welch, and she died in 1981 at twenty-four years old."

 _This seems too easy,_ Baby thinks, _John shouldn't have been in trouble from a simple salt and burn like this._

 Walking over to stand behind Sam, Dean looks at the wall and squints, "Anything useful, like where she was buried?"

"Not really," Sam shakes his head, "Although, her husband Joseph Welch is still alive. We could go check him out?"

"Should we split up? You go talk to the ol' philanderer to see if she was cremated or not. I'll go check out the bridge, see if there's any E.M.F on sight? The sooner we burn her body, the better." Dean reminds, hears the sirens and pauses, he drops Baby on the bed and walks over to the window. "Shit, Sam, looks like the cops realised we weren't Marshals."

Sam curses, "Let's escape out the back, there's got to be a window in the bathroom."

"No," Dean shakes his head, "I'll create a distraction, you take Baby and run. If we both try to go now, there won't be enough time."

Meowing pitifully, Baby rubs up against Dean's leg. She won't let him go by himself, that would be a torment to her mind. Constant worry and torture. ~~Plus, Sam doesn't really like her and it's hard enough to not hiss at him with Dean as a buffer~~. Dean pets her head, pressing a firm kiss between her eyes.

"I'll get you out," Sam promises, scooping up Baby and carrying her out the back. She screeches loudly, but they leave Dean anyway. 

_Fuck._

* * *

 

 Next time she sees John, no matter if he's gravely injured or just fine, Baby is going to murder him. She doesn't know how, but it's going to happen. Because it's his fault, Dean getting arrested and Sam leaving her at the pound. ("I can't bring you with me, okay? it's not practical and you'd just end up in the way. I need to solve this hunt for Dad. I'll come back for you. You understand?") She wanted to meow, _fuck no_ , but it was unsuccessful.

Now here she was, stuck in a cage with another cat named Dot who kept trying to cough up a hairball. It was agony.

 And the longer she was away from Dean, the feebler she felt. It was like all those hunts and broken bones had finally caught up with her. 

Finally, Dean comes to pick her up. He presses his face into her stomach, letting her chew on his hair for a couple minutes. Sam has the audacity to look sheepish, but she spares him no mind, too occupied licking every square inch of Dean's face. They apparently drove Dean's muscle car into the ghost ladies house, making her face her children and got rid of her unfinished business.

Dot gives her a curious glance as she gets pulled from the cage, and Baby stares back in pity. Poor thing probably won't get adopted anytime soon. 

She tries to put the experience of being left behind into the back of her mind, letting Dean pour affections onto her as he profusely apologises for Sam neglecting her in the pound. She forgives him immediately, accepting the treats he practically shoves into her mouth.

He places her in the front seat of the Pontiac, she tries not to smirk at Sam, and they head back to Stanford.

The drive back is a steady quiet, only broken by Sam, "We didn't find Dad."

"I know," Dean replies, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel, "But it's time for you to go back to the real world."

"Maybe," Sam pauses, the silence drags uncomfortably, "I could do the interview then come back on the road with you. Just until we find Dad."

Dean doesn't say anything for a few moments. Then, "What about your girlfriend?"

"I could try to convince her to come with us," Sam says without hesitation, "It's Dad, Dean. No matter how much I disliked the guy, he's still our Dad. I still want to find him. Want him to see me get my diploma, marry Jessica, have children. I want him to be alive for all those things, be proud of me for once. If he's in trouble, we need to find him."

Baby watches as a steely expression takes over Dean's face, "Bring her with us? I don't know, Sam."

"Well I do," Sam replies, more determined than before, "She can handle it, Dean. Jessica is amazing and I'm not going to hide secrets from her. Especially ones so important."

"Just be careful, Sammy," Dean sighs, pulling onto the highway, "You might think telling them is the best idea, but be prepared for the worst."

Baby thinks back to Cassie and instantly starts to pray that Jessica will handle the truth better.

The rest of the ride is silent.

**Author's Note:**

> Any spelling and grammar mistakes are my own, this is, unfortunately, unbeta'd, so please comment and help a poor girl out.
> 
> The title is inspired by a Pink Floyd song. It's pretty kickass, so you should listen to it!
> 
> P.s. I can add more- So any canon moment in supernatural reinterpreted with cat!impala you'd like me to write, mention it in the comments!


End file.
